Gemotions

The world seemed to have lost its color. Eleanor moved through each day in a haze. The vibrant hues of her life had been replaced with shades of gray. The memory of her best friend was always there, an ache that wouldn't subside.

Her grandniece, Clara, adored drawing. She'd present Eleanor with a new creation every day. One day, it was a sketch of a creature with swirling colors and a perpetually curious expression.

"This is Wisp," Clara announced, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "He said he knew you." Eleanor’s breath hitched. Wisp. The friend who had always been there, the one she had confided in as a child. A cold wave washed over her. It was a tangible reminder of the joyous times she would never have again.

She cleared her throat. “That’s… interesting,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Clara continued to chatter about Wisp, her words a gentle but painful echo of a life she'd lost.